Fight For Your Woman!
by Smackalicious
Summary: Yes, I'm sure I'm not gay. Stop asking me that. [McGee crack!fic. Inspired by millions of things including DrawMeASheep because she assuming she is a woman is hilarity personified. And I want her to read this. Sequel quite possible. Ask nicely.]


_A/N: iheartGibbs won one of my NCIS Hangman puzzles on NCIS Fanfiction Addiction, so her prize was a crack!fic from yours truly. Exciting story, this I know. She requested a McGee crack!fic, which I did deliver on. Inspirations/mentions include: Cote de Pablo & Sean Murray's commentary to "Dead Man Walking" (oh, you seriously hilarious babies, you), minor season 4 episode things (not minor EPISODES, but minor THINGS, you know), DrawMeASheep's fic "Hello Again" (you are my hero, Sheep), and a tiny tiny thing from one of Enthusiastic Fish's pieces of fangirling at NFA. That's all. Please be with the reading and reviewing now._

* * *

McGee stared down his enemy. There was no way. He'd never escape this fight alive. And he'd never _ever _win the heart of Ziva David.

He cracked his knuckles a few times, then his neck, then bent over and did a few stretches, then some jumping jacks . . . Okay, he did a full workout. But it was just so hard to find the time to get to the gym these days and he really needed to make due with what time he had, even if he were in the midst of a battle for the love of a co-worker.

Oh, but Ziva was so much more than just a co-worker to McGee. She was also an assassin. A super sexy assassin, but an assassin nonetheless, and he had to keep in mind that if he lost this fight, she might just kill him. For what reason, he didn't know, but all he knew was that she was the killing type and she might just feel like killing someone today.

Okay, so she'd gotten better about it. She no longer roamed around killing random strangers she met in the NCIS men's room after they didn't wash their hands, but tended to stick to terrorists and other bad guys NCIS deemed worthy of her special "skills." But that's beside the point.

McGee was fighting for Ziva, for her love, her hands all over his body and down his pants and . . . well, now, that's getting into naughty territory and distracting McGee from his real mission here. He took a deep breath and got into a fighting stance. It was now or never. Or at the least, now or later. But he wasn't the procrastinating type. He liked to get things done, without postponements for rain delays or breaking news reports on the war on terror, though that was seriously a concern for them, considering they were NCIS special agents working for the government and dealing with things like terrorism and the Navy and . . .

Right. Back to the story.

McGee stood with arms up, ready to take on his competition, as Ziva walked into the room, not giving him a second glance as she sat down at her desk. "Good morning, McGee." She logged into her computer.

He fumed. He was totally confused as to how she could just sit there and let that . . . _thing _charm her like that! This was it. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

"I'm only doing this for both our own good," he announced to her, causing her to look up in surprise, as he took his enemy in hand and threw him to the ground, kicking him across the squadroom floor.

When finished with his annihilation of his competition, he looked over to Ziva, to find her giving him a crazed look. He shrugged, walking back over to her.

"It was me or the hat, Ziva," he explained, and they both looked over to the now filthy orange beanie lying on the floor. They looked at each other again. "I couldn't stand to see you so . . . entangled in his game. I had to save you."

Ziva had tears in her eyes. "You . . . That was so sweet, McGee." She looked wistfully at the hat, remembering all the good times they had had together. Her gaze then floated back to McGee. "But . . ."

McGee sighed, disheartened. "You loved him, didn't you?"

She stared at him. "I was just going to ask . . . Now what will I wear to keep my head warm?"

McGee smiled. "I thought of that already. Here." From behind his back he produced an official Thom E. Gemcity beanie, the same color as his eyes. "The color's better for your skin tone, anyway."

Ziva's eyes glowed as she took the hat from him, turning it over gently in her hands before trying it on. "It's perfect, McGee," she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He blushed. "But you make me wonder . . ."

Oh, great. Here it came.

"Yes, I'm sure I'm not gay. Stop asking me that."

Ziva gave him an innocent look. "I was wondering if it wouldn't look better on your bedroom floor."

McGee's eyes lit up and he made a mental tally: McGee: 1. Orange beanie: 0.

THE END!


End file.
